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That adaptation, one of the grand screwball comedies of the Depression era, joined the National Film Registry two decades ago. So you'd think the script of a play with such a distinguished post-Broadway life would be an easy one for the folks at the Metropolitan Playhouse to get hold of for one of its productions aimed at bringing to light seldom-seen works from America's theatrical past. Turns out, however, that the script never was published, and Michael Hardart, director of the revival currently at the Metropolitan, wound up using the original prompt book, which he found in the New York Public Library. That is a great story of discovery and one nice piece of testimony for those who champion the preservation of printed text. Unfortunately, however, it turns out that the play itself has precious little of that light and breezy screwball quality that makes the movie a gem. Despite the best efforts of a game and talented cast, Alex Roe's snappy set design and Sidney Fortner's snazzy outfits (at least some of which were culled from the TDF Costume Collection), this showcase production is more of a curiosity than a resurrected treasure. Alexandra O'Daly plays Lucy, a divorced socialite, still in her mid-twenties, who is engaged to be married to Dan (J. Stephen Brantley), a wealthy Oklahoma Oil man. Dan and his highly suspicious aunt (Emily Jon Mitchell) are concerned that Lucy may be after Dan's money (she is, actually), and also that the circumstances leading up to her divorce were fishy. It seems there was a lot of gossip about Lucy and another man that they want laid to rest before the wedding can proceed. In order to clear up matters, Lucy calls on her ex-husband Norman (Nate Washburn) to vouch for her —which he does, despite his own misgivings. In the end, it is clear that Lucy and Norman are still very much attracted to each other, with a love that transcends a definitive answer regarding Lucy's faithfulness. From a historical view, it's interesting to consider the place of The Awful Truth among other love-among-the-rich comedies, such as Philip Barry's The Philadelphia Story to which it bears a thematic resemblance (though, to be fair, Richman's play predates Barry's by more than a decade.) But Barry was a master of character-driven sophisticated badinage, whereas Richman relies on witty aphorisms ("the curse of the snappy retort," as one character puts it) over naturalistic language, so that the conversations come off as artificial and bookish rather than authentic. Of the cast, only Erin Leigh Schmoyer manages to pull off the slightly ditzy role of Lucy's bubbly friend Josie in a way that suits her character, and the weightiness of the script seems to lift a bit whenever she shows up.
The Awful Truth
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